Torn
by pjzallday
Summary: Part One of "The Healing Trilogy" *** A Post-"Never Leave Me" (7x09) Ficlet: Buffy rescues a tortured Spike


FEEDBACK: Always welcome (usually appreciated)

RATING: PG-13 

CHARACTERS: Buffy, Spike

DISCLAIMER: The characters aren't mine, I borrowed them for the day in the hopes of boosting Spike's morale during the hiatus.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This ficlet was written as part of an Improv Group Challenge and was inspired in part by Linda's "Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Spike" post. 

The story is canon up to and including the end of "Never Leave Me" (7x09). 

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TORN

There was no sound when she found him but her own heartbeat and laboured breaths as she fought back her terror and her tears.  His body hung in shreds.  His palms and elbows were raw from having been bound for hours.  His head dropped low.  One shoulder appeared dislocated, unable to support the weight of his torso.  And ugh, his pale marble chest was covered in ghastly red etchings. She was sick at the sight.

"A vampire can't bleed to death," Buffy told herself, not absolutely certain that was in fact the case.  "He's alright.  I'll just get him down from there and he'll be alright."

Turning the crank on the winch with an echoing clatter, she lowered the wheel with Spike's battered body to a vertical position.  Moving toward him, Buffy gulped back her nausea at the smell of blood and death that wafted from him.  After untying his ankles, she unlashed the leather strap that bound his one healthy arm. Holding him around the waist, she loosened the belt at his hips then sharply shifted him.  Upon hearing the reassuring pop of the shoulder joint as it snapped back into place, Buffy began to free that arm.  Finally, standing in front of him, prepared to take the full weight of his body as if in an embrace, she unfastened the belt and pulled him forward. 

His body slumped toward hers.  As his head dropped to her shoulder, his lips brushed her neck sending chills through her.  Buffy closed her eyes and tried to imagine those lips kissing her as they had what seemed like a lifetime ago.  Taking a deep breath, she was reminded that things had changed:  this once strong determined vampire was now quite literally an empty shell; just thin grey skin and bone.  To her, he seemed so light, so fragile.  It was all. so wrong.

Carefully she eased him to the dirt floor then began to search for something with which to cover him.  Though she found his shirt, there was little else in the room she could use.  Still, she couldn't leave him.  Alone.  Not like this.  Not again.  If only she hadn't left him alone that night in her basement, chained and unable to defend himself.  No.  She wouldn't make that mistake again. 

Buffy knelt beside him.  "Spike," she began tenderly.  "Spike, can you hear me?" She took his cold limp hand in hers.  "Spike.  Squeeze my hand.  Squeeze my hand if you can hear me." 

Nothing.  Not even a twitch. 

"That's OK," she murmured settling his hand gently by his side.  "I know it's hard.  You're weak.  You need..."  She knew what he needed:  blood.

Knocking the metal cap from one of the lanterns, she proceeded to do what had to be done:  Buffy slashed its sharp edge across her wrist, cutting through the flesh as if it were butter, then put the bleeding gash to Spike's lips.  At first she was concerned because the blood just flowed and dribbled from his mouth.  

Eventually though, Spike sputtered and began to swallow.  After several hard gulps, his face shifted, fangs descended and he began to suck at the wound.

Grateful that Spike was responding, Buffy sighed.  With her free hand, she reached to stroke his head to comfort him.  

At the feel her touch, Spike weakly opened his tired eyes.  Realizing what he was doing he shut tight his lips and cast his vampire face from her in shame.

"Spike," she cooed, resting a gentle hand on his head.  "It's alright.  You need this now.  Drink."  She offered the weeping wrist again.

He wouldn't turn back to her.  "Buffy..."  His voice was ragged and low.  "I can't."

"Spike, listen to me."  She cupped his chin and forced him to face her.  Her olive eyes searched in the dim light to meet the golden glow of his demon gaze.  "Listen to me:  you need this.  If Willow or Xander or Dawn needed my blood, I'd give it.  You need it.  Take it."

"S'not the same," he replied sorrowfully.

"Fine," she huffed.  "It's not the same."  Buffy paused to think a moment.  She wanted to be lenient --- Spike had already clearly suffered more than was his due --- but she knew he had to be convinced to accept her blood.  "When Angel needed my blood, I gave it."

The words had barely left her lips when Spike grimaced as if in pain.  Buffy knew this wasn't a pain from his wounds --- not his physical ones at least.

Spike cleared his throat and swallowed hard.  "That's not the same either," he choked out.  "Buffy, you know that's not the same."  His jaw was tight and even in the low light, Buffy could see the tears glistening in his yellow eyes.

"No," she replied softly, almost woefully.  "It isn't."  She ran a light hand across the ridges of his forehead then down the side of his face whisking a tear from his cheek.  "I gave Angel my blood because I had to.  It was the only thing that would save his life.  I loved him.  I thought I couldn't live without him."

Spike let out a strained breath and slowly turned his head from her again.

"Spike please, listen to me," she urged.  "I want to do this.  I want to help you now because I believe in you.  I believe in the goodness that's inside you.  Spike, I believe in the man you are.  Let me help you."

At her words, his demeanour appeared to change.  Buffy wanted to think she'd given him some strength and purpose to go on, to accept her blood.  She noticed, as he turned to her, his struggle to shift back to his human mask.

Leaning over him, she gazed deeply into his now human eyes:  his pupils wide and rimmed with the thinnest halo of blue.  Her heart pounded hard and fast as the fear and love inside her surged.  "Spike, I-"  She brushed a gentle kiss on his dry cracked lips.  "I... I care about you, and I do this because I care about you."  She pressed her wrist to his mouth.

This time he neither rejected the offered wound nor fed from it with earnest.  He simply lapped at the blood on the surface; licking the gash, encouraging it to close.  Buffy smiled meekly at him, recognizing his intent.  When the bleeding had stopped, Spike grappled to sit up.  Buffy put her arm around his back to lend support then swept the dirt from his pale skin before helping him on with his shirt.

***

The sun had set by the time the pair made their way from the school basement.  Buffy called a cab to take them back to the house on Revello Drive.

When they arrived home, Buffy helped Spike wash up.  She dressed his wounds, got him some clean clothes and warmed animal blood, then settled him on her bed.  They'd both been so quiet all evening, Buffy was almost startled when Spike spoke.

"Buffy," he began. "I appreciate what you wanted to do for me. What you did."

"It was no trouble," she said sincerely as she sat down on the edge of the bed beside him.

"I need you to understand why. why I couldn't."

Nervously, she began tucking the blankets around him.  "Spike, I know.  You need to get off human bl-"

Shaking his head, he cut her off sharply, "No.  That's not it."  He took her by the arm to get her full attention.  "Buffy, we've both known for a year now that I could hurt you; that I could bite you.  Have you ever stopped to ask yourself why I haven't even tried?"  Looking to her for acknowledgement, he was met only with bewilderment.  "It's not that I didn't want your blood, luv.  God help me, I've always wanted it."  He chuckled a little and smiled, but the smile quickly faded and sadness came to his eyes.  "But Buffy, I wanted you to offer it because you love me.  Not because you pity me; not because you feel you have to.

"Buffy, I-"

"What're you doing?" MorphySpike appeared over Buffy's shoulder.  "Surprised to see me, then are you?  Don't know why; you've not yet finished your job.  Now let's get this over with.  You know what I want you to do."

"You're not here," Spike gritted through his teeth.  "I won't listen to you."

"Spike, what is it?"  Buffy turned to try to see to whom or what Spike was speaking.  "What do you see?"

"You really are pathetic, mate," it continued.  "Hasn't she told you enough times she doesn't love you?  That's never goin' change.  You may have a soul now, but you're still an evil dead thing."

Spike countered, "You can't-"

Early one morning, just as the sun was rising. MorphySpike started to sing casually.  "Come on now, take her.  She wants you to take her."  Suddenly he changed shape, becoming MorphyBuffy and seductively adding, "I want you to.  You want to."

Spike began to shake, battling the demon inside him.  

Sensing the tension building in him and hearing the low growl rumbling up his throat, Buffy leapt to her feet and rolled him tightly in the blankets so he couldn't free his arms or legs.

I heard a maid singing in the valley below. MorphyBuffy continued.

"Spike!" Buffy shouted as she pressed him to the mattress.  "Listen to me.  Look at me."  She glared into his gold-flecked blue eyes and knew that he was using everything he had to fight his demon.  "We can get through this.  You have to be strong.  Stay with me.  Stay with me now."

Oh don't deceive me. MorphyBuffy's singing became more bitter and angry.

Concerned that Spike might buck suddenly and throw her from the bed or catch her with his gnashing teeth, Buffy yanked him to a sitting position and shifted in behind him, stretching one leg on either side.  Pressing her back hard against the headboard for support, she pulled his back to her chest and wrapped her arms securely around his blanket-bound torso.  "Spike, you can do this," Buffy urged as she rested her head over his shoulder against his cheek.  "I believe in you.  Now you've got to believe in yourself.  Please Spike.  Don't leave me.  You can beat this thing.  I'm here.  I won't leave you.  Spike please, don't ever leave me."

His shaking became stronger with her words.

"Stay with me.  Stay with me now.  Fight it.  Don't leave me," she pleaded, tears coming to her eyes both from the emotion of the moment and the struggle to keep her grip as he thrashed against her.

MorphyBuffy sang more impatiently.

"Spike, you can do this.  We can do this.  Let me help you.  You can beat this.  Spike please.  Please.  Don't leave me.  I believe in you.  Spike please.  Believe that you're a changed man.  Believe in yourself.  Believe me."  Suddenly, Buffy felt his body ease and the growl change to a sob.

Spike no longer listened to Morphy, who sneered then faded from his view.

"Spike?" she inquired.

"Buffy." he gasped.  As she went to release him from her tight hold, he begged, "No. Don't."

Crawling around to face him, Buffy looked deeply into his eyes.  "Spike, you're alright now.  Everything is going to be OK."  She began to loosen the blankets and settle him down on the pillows.  "We'll get through this together."

As she got up to leave, he reached for her arm.  "Buffy, please stay with me.  Hold me."

"Spike, I."  She hesitated, not really sure what to make of his request.  Seeing the wide-eye innocent plea on his face, she smiled.  "I won't leave you.  We'll get through this," she finished as she slipped under the blankets, wrapping her arms around him to calm his fears.

Exhausted by the blood-loss but feeling safe and loved for the first time in ages, Spike drifted off to sleep in Buffy's warm embrace comforted by the rhythmic beating of her heart and her gentle fingers running through his hair.

"Shh. I believe in you," she soothed in a whisper.  "I believe in us."


End file.
